Cross My Heart
by Alexannah
Summary: -Immortality Challenge- The wizarding world is hovering on the brink of w a r . But all hopes of a calm before the inevitable storm are dashed by a new prophecy, love rivals, and a mysterious key ... DMHG ADMM HPRR ADPP RWHA
1. Grey and Pretty

**Cross My Heart**

by Alexannah

_Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous; and it pricks like thorn.  
__**- Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet**_

**Chapter One: Grey and Pretty**

Aberforth's hand closed over the rough box in his pocket. He was whistling tunelessly, attracting many curious stares from his brother's students, but he didn't care much. The only time Aberforth Dumbledore cared about privacy was when it was his own secrets at stake.

"Butterscotch," he said to the gargoyle.

Albus looked up from a paper as he came in. "Aberforth, what do you want?"

"What, I'm not allowed to drop in when I want?" Aberforth replied, acting hurt. "I came to use the library … If you don't mind?"

"Go ahead." Albus went back to his paperwork just as the door behind him opened.

"Afternoon, Minerva."

"Oh, hello, Aber …" Minerva yawned, revealing pointed teeth, running her hands through her hair. "Forth." She looked at Albus. "Doing anything interesting, dear?"

"Defence Against the Dark Arts applications."

Two pairs of eyebrows went up. "We have applicants?"

"Yes: one. Her name's Teasel Ferre, heard of her?"

Minerva frowned. "I know that name … I can't place a face though."

"I know," Aberforth said, bouncing on his toes.

"Who is she?"

He tilted his head onto one side. "Let's just say I don't think she will get on with Minerva."

"As long as Teasel Ferre isn't an alias for Dolores Umbridge, I don't care who takes the job, as long as they're good."

Aberforth shrugged. "Don't say I didn't warn you," he chided. "Anyway, I'm off."

"Why do you want to use the library anyway?" Albus asked curiously.

"Oh, no reason …"

Five minutes later Aberforth poked his head round the Hospital Wing door. "Morning, Poppy."

She flicked a rubber band at him.

"Ouch!" Aberforth rubbed his nose in annoyance. "What was that for?"

Poppy chuckled. "Sorry, I was aiming for the bullseye." Aberforth looked round and saw a paper target pinned on the door.

"Bored?"

"You could say so. The students are on their way home and I don't have anything to do."

"You could always look me over," Aberforth said cheerfully. "I was on my way to the library but I can wait."

Poppy raised an eyebrow. "The library? You're a bit out of the way to go to the library, aren't you?"

"I came from Albus' office. Thought it best to ask permission."

"First time for everything, I suppose. What did you want to use the library for, anyway?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Aberforth huffed.

* * *

Minerva retreated to her rooms. It was always the same this day of the year: legally, the staff weren't allowed to leave the school until the Hogwarts Express reached King's Cross, in case there was an accident on the train – until then they were still their responsibility. Everyone packed up before term ended, so there was one long day with nothing to do. Minerva sighed. She and Albus normally travelled during the holidays but since Voldemort's return they'd been staying at the Hog's Head, having no place of their own. Most of her things were staying at the school, which she considered her only home. She ran a finger along her bed-post, thinking.

She wasn't the only one with no proper home. She'd seen the way Harry dreaded the summer holidays. After Sirius' death, she wondered how he was coping. Sneaking into the Gryffindor dormitory in cat form during the night could only tell her so much. All she knew was that he was having trouble sleeping.

Maybe she should pay him a visit. She was the only one that could. She had visited the area before but never stopped to say hello – until recently she'd thought he wouldn't want her spying on him. Now she supposed he'd be glad of the company.

Albus had gone off to interview Teasel Ferre, who'd arrived half an hour ago. When he returned she'd ask. Or rather, pretend to ask. It was only polite, even if she went against his answer in the end. But she was almost positive he'd let her. There was no risk. Well, hardly any risk.

Minerva decided to wait in the corridor outside the Defence classroom – no doubt Albus would be showing her around if she got the job. She was just about to round the corner when she heard voices. Peering round the corner, she saw Albus and, presumably, Ms Ferre a few feet away, coming in her direction.

Minerva's senses went on red alert. She didn't trust this woman. There was no denying it, Teasel Ferre was pretty, for her age. Minerva thought she looked about ninety. Her eyes, a light shade of hazel, were lightly creased with laughter lines and although she wore no make-up her cheeks were rosy and her eyelashes thick. Her hair was long like Minerva's, but smooth and brown, and flecked with grey.

_Grey __**and**__ pretty. I don't like her_.

Minerva frowned. This – woman – was laughing at something Albus had said, her hand flicking her hair back over her shoulder every few seconds. Both of them were smiling widely at the joke. It wasn't unusual for Albus to flirt – he did it all the time, and Minerva didn't mind because she knew it was perfectly harmless. But this woman was flirting right back.

_Aberforth said Albus always had a thing for brunettes at school. Brunette, grey and pretty. She fits them all._

_Oh, stop it!_ she scolded herself. _You're being paranoid, Minerva. Albus flirts with everyone. Just because she's doing it back doesn't mean she likes him. Besides, Albus devoted his life to you._

_No_, she couldn't help but correct herself. _**I**__ gave my life to __**him**__. Albus is mortal. He still has free will. He can still choose someone like himself, someone who he can grow old with -_

"Minerva, there you are!"

She shook herself. Now was not the time. She plastered on a fake smile as Albus and the new woman stopped in front of her.

"You must be Professor McGonagall." The brunette reached out and shook her hand firmly. "Albus has told me all about the staff, you especially. I'm really looking forward to working with you."

_First-name terms already?_ Minerva fought to keep her face neutral. "I don't believe we've met?" she said pointedly.

"Oh, Minerva, this is Teasel Ferre," Albus quickly said. "The new Defence teacher."

Of course. Well, at least she would be gone in a year. Minerva decided to change the subject.

"Very nice to meet you," she lied. "Albus, can I have a quick word?"

"Of course -"

"It's about Harry," she said firmly. "Excuse us, Professor Ferre."

"Teasel, please!" the woman called after them as Minerva took Albus firmly by the wrist and dragged him out of earshot. Teasel Ferre, to her annoyance, though she couldn't hear them from that distance, stood still and watched.

"What is it, Minerva?" Albus asked. "Are you all right?"

"I'm worried about Harry," Minerva said, not really lying. She _was_, that just wasn't what was on her mind at the moment. "Can I go and see him?"

Albus stared at her. "You've never asked permission before. Are you sure you're all right, Mina?"

"I'm not asking permission to check up on him, I'm asking permission to stay. With him. For as long as he needs it. Please, Albus."

He opened his mouth, closed it again, and thought. "Well … I can't really stop you. And I suppose it would be all right. Just be careful, Minerva. He's not at his best right now."

"I know, that's why I want to go to him. The last thing he needs right now is to be on his own." Happy that she wouldn't have to go against his wishes, she relaxed. Suddenly she spotted Teasel still watching them and had an idea.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "Before I go …" She took a handful of his robes below his neck and pulled him down to her level before planting a kiss on his mouth. He froze, surprised – goodness knows neither of them had ever been much for public displays of affection – but got over it quickly and kissed her back. Minerva felt the usual pleasant shiver run down her spine as he ran his tongue over her mouth.

"Mm." She pulled back. "That's not fair."

"What's not fair?" he asked innocently.

"You're not allowed to do that when I want to go somewhere or get something done," Minerva said firmly.

"Oh." Albus mocked disappointment, even going as far as the pouting lip. Minerva chuckled.

"Oh, you." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'll keep in contact."

"Yes, you will," Albus said with a silly grin on his face. "I, uh, had better show Teasel to her quarters."

Minerva nodded. "You'd better tidy up first." She carefully rearranged the front of his robes. "There, that's better."

She looked across at Teasel Ferre, who was staring at them and making no effort to hide her gape. Minerva silently celebrated.

_Well, now she knows he's taken she'll think twice about the flirting_, she thought smugly. _Ha!_

* * *

The drive to the Dursleys' house was a quiet one. Harry leaned back in his seat, his eyes closed, resting. Every now and then he would pinch himself to stop him falling asleep. He dared not fall into slumber. Dudley did after a while. Harry felt relief at his cousin's snoring, as it guaranteed he would not fall asleep by accident for a while.

The year had been a bad one, and Harry was dreading the summer. He sensed that the Order's threat had hit Vernon in the way it wasn't meant to. The car was filled with his silent rage.

As the car drew up outside number four, Harry jerked awake, alarmed at the realisation that he had failed to stay awake. Part of him wasn't surprised: he had had hardly any sleep for the last few nights, ever since … That Night.

Not surprised at the Dursleys' refusal to help him with his trunk, Harry was left to heave it out the boot himself and then drag it up to the house, ignoring Vernon's growls at him to hurry up.

Tired and uncoordinated, Harry ended up dropping his truck about a foot above the ground. The corner landed on his toe. He didn't even whimper, just grimaced and heaved it up again.

It was as he was doing that he noticed something sitting by the doorstep.

Vernon let out a howl as the trunk dropped again, his time onto his own foot. Under normal circumstances Harry would have silently congratulated himself, but he was distracted, staring at the front of the Dursleys' house. Not for long. Vernon seized him by the scruff of his neck, snapping him out of his surprise.

"Get this – this _thing_ indoors now. And don't you _dare_ do that again!"

Harry's sense of self-preservation kicked in and he muttered hurriedly, "Yes, Uncle Vernon, sorry," and grabbed the end of the trunk, dragging it towards the front door. He knew it would be difficult heaving it over the step, but to his surprise the truck seemed to lift itself off the ground a couple of centimetres, allowing him to get it up easily. He stole a glance at the silver tabby cat. It winked at him.

"Shoo!" Vernon said loudly as he reached the front door, barely looking at it. Harry had to hide a smile as she merely twitched her tail and glared at him. It was slightly scary how Professor McGonagall could look so much like herself in cat form.

Vernon unlocked the door and Harry pushed his trunk inside. He could have sworn it was slightly lighter than it had been a moment ago. He left it by the stairs, ready to take up, and went back outside in the pretence of shutting the boot.

Professor McGonagall seemed to have disappeared. Slightly disappointed that she hadn't waited for an opportunity to say hello, Harry trailed back into the house and began to pull his belongings up the stairs to his room. The Dursleys had retreated into the living-room and the kitchen, leaving him to his own thoughts. He tried hard not to dwell on anything as he made his way upstairs and concentrated instead on his trunk. It was hard work, but not as hard as it would have been.

Pausing only to catch his breath at the top of the stairs, Harry pushed his door open and dragged his trunk inside. He looked down at the floor as he did so, shut the door firmly behind him and turned to his desk and placed Hedwig's cage on it. She hooted at him and nipped his finger in comfort.

"Ouch. Thanks," he murmured quietly, stroking her feathers. She stretched her wings, ruffling her feathers. Harry pulled three old pieces of parchment towards him and scribbled a note on each.

_Hi Hermione,_

_Back at Privet Drive. You probably know that some of the old crowd threatened the Dursleys. This probably won't be a bad summer. Thought you would want to know I arrived here safely._

_Love,  
Harry_

Harry copied Hermione's letter out again and addressed it to Ron. He signed his name and started on the last note.

_Hi everyone,_

_Thought you'd want to know I arrived home fine. Dursleys are scared to pieces about the threat. Think I'll be alright._

_Harry_

He sighed and looked up at Hedwig. "I know we've only just got back, but could you take these?"

She hooted at him.

"I know, I know. Here, this one's for Hermione, this one's for Ron, and that could you deliver to any of the Order."

"I could take that one."

Harry yelled in shock and whirled round, seizing his wand, a curse on his lips.

"Sorry!" the intruder said hurriedly. "I forgot you didn't know I was here."

Still breathing hard, Harry tucked his wand away. "How long have you been there?"

"I was here when you came in. You didn't see me, and I didn't want to interrupt you when you were writing. Sorry, Harry."

It was the use of first name that surprised Harry more. He sat down at his desk and stared. "What are you doing here, Professor?"

"Two reasons." Professor McGonagall sat down on the bed. "Firstly, although Riddle has suffered a blow with all the arrests that have taken place recently, I still feel uncomfortable about letting you stay here with no other protection other than the wards and your wand." She took off her glasses and began to polish them. "Secondly, on a less professional level, I was worried about you." She replaced her glasses and looked up at him. Her tone became quieter and much more serious as she said, "You've suffered a loss, Harry, on top of a hugely stressful year. The last thing you need is to be alone."

"Thanks for your concern, but I'm fine," Harry said, looking down at the unsent letters on his desk. Professor McGonagall pursed her lips.

"Well like it or not, I'm here now, and I'm staying." She even folded her arms to make her point. Harry was stunned. It was in her character to be stubborn, that he knew, but with the exception of the Umbridge episode last year, she'd never shown any inclination to be unprofessional.

"Um," Harry said, thinking fast, "it's not that I don't appreciate it, Professor, but I don't think my aunt and uncle would like having someone else magic in the house. They only just tolerate me."

Professor McGonagall's expression softened. "Do you think they would tolerate a cat?"

"Er …" Harry knew the answer was no – Aunt Petunia hated animals. "Only if they don't know there is one."

"Well, then, it looks like I'm staying. What's for dinner?"

* * *

While Harry was downstairs finding something for them both to eat, the Dursleys were in the garden and Minerva was sitting on the windowsill in cat form, her tail twitching, watching the neighbours. There was a "For Sale/Sold" sign outside the house on the left. Two removal vans were parked outside. Minerva's attention was diverted by a mouse scurrying across the front garden.

Instinctively she jumped down and pounced, trapping the rodent between her paws. Forgetting Harry was already getting dinner, she leapt back onto the window-sill with the struggling animal in her mouth.

"Professor?" Harry said quietly, nudging the door open with his foot. "I've got you some dinner, if you want some." He paused. "You're not a vegetarian or anything, are you?"

He flicked the light on and blanched at the sight. Minerva guiltily realised he probably wasn't too keen on watching her eat the mouse.

"Um … obviously not." Harry tried not to look and set the plates down on the bedside table. Minerva deposited the relieved mouse out of the window and transformed back.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. "I didn't expect you up here yet. And no, I'm not a vegetarian." She sniffed. "Is that bacon?"

Small-talk turned to the Defence post as they ate together, Harry on the bed and Minerva at the desk.

"So, what's the new Professor like?" Harry asked, playing with his fork.

"Don't mess with your food." Minerva was tempted to answer "Forward" but bit her tongue. "I don't know exactly, I've only met her once so far, this morning. She seemed … competent. I suppose."

"Well, she can't be worse than Umbridge."

"True." Though at least Umbridge hadn't shown any desire to do anything less painful to Albus than jinx him. Minerva shook her head. She was being paranoid again, she told herself.

But she had instincts, and they hadn't let her down yet. She could sense there was more to Teasel than met the eye. She wondered where Aberforth knew her from. She should ask him next time she saw him.

_She's got something I'll never have_, she mused regretfully. A second later Harry said, "What's that?" and she realised she'd spoken out loud.

"Never mind." But in her head, Minerva answered.

Grey hair. Lines. Age. Mortality.

**TBC …**


	2. Mice, Mirrors and Matchboxes

Summary: Emotions are running high after Voldemort's been forced into the open and the arrival of several old acquaintances out of the blue cause heavily disguised chaos

**Summary:** Emotions are running high after Voldemort's been forced into the open and the arrival of several old acquaintances out of the blue cause heavily disguised chaos. Vampires, curses, trials, smuggling and self sacrifice all combine to make one interesting and emotionally exhausting year.

**Disclaimer:** Teasel and Jezebel are mine, the rest JKR's.

**Author's Notes:**

--

**Chapter Two: Mice, Mirrors and Matchboxes  
**  
Minerva sighed, restless. She had pretended to go to sleep when Harry was awake, curled up in cat form on the end of his bed, but night was her time to be active. She'd prowled the garden, catching a second dinner, and wished she could go flying but she couldn't leave Harry alone. What if he woke and found her gone? He'd panic and might do something stupid. Maybe she should show him her own two-way mirror so he could call Albus if something ever _did_ happen.

That was an idea. It would pass the time. Minerva unwrapped the mirror and said Albus' name softly into it. It took five minutes before the tired face to match the name appeared in the reflection. "Minerva? It's half past three," he moaned. "_Some_ of us need our sleep at night."

"How are things?" she asked, ignoring the time. Albus may moan about being woken at night but he never really meant it.

"Uh …" Albus yawned. "Well, all the students got home safe, you'll be pleased to hear. The rest of the staff are starting to leave. I'm going over to the Hog's Head tomorrow."

"What about our new Defence teacher?"

"Oh, Teasel seems competent enough. Thank goodness. Tomorrow I'll ask Aberforth how he knows her."

"You do that. And if it turns out she's a famous author, wears a turban, drinks from a private flask or …" Minerva paused, trying to think up an appropriate one for Umbridge.

"Uses a Blood Quill in detention?" Albus suggested.

"_WHAT?_"

"I only found out this evening -" Albus began, but broke off as a sleepy voice from behind Minerva said, "Professor? Who're you talking to?"

"Is that Harry?"

"Sorry," Minerva said quietly to the mess of tousled dark hair emerging from under the bedclothes. "I didn't mean to wake you. I'm talking to Professor Dumbledore," she explained, showing him the mirror.

"Is that a two-way mirror?" Harry asked, sliding out of bed.

She nodded. "Albus, Harry wants to say hello." She passed the mirror to him, ignoring Albus' mutter of feeling giddy from all the movement.

"'Lo, Professor," Harry said wearily, taking the mirror with one hand and rubbing his eyes with the other.

"Good evening – morning – Harry. Tell my deputy not to shout so loud she wakes you up next time, will you?"

"Professor, he says don't shout so loud," Harry relayed.

"I know," Minerva replied, amused. "Harry, ask the headmaster what he meant before I shouted and woke you up."

"She says -" Harry began but Albus spoke over him. "I heard. Tell Minerva I found out this evening Umbridge was …" He broke off. "Wait, you had detention with her, didn't you Harry?"

Harry paled. "Umbridge? Yes, but -"

Minerva grabbed the mirror from him. "Albus, where did you hear this?"

"Oh, only about two hundred letters of complaint from parents. Most of them Howlers."

Harry gulped. Minerva looked at him with her eyes narrowed.

"Did Umbridge use a Blood Quill on you in detention?" she asked. "Harry?"

"She used one on half the students in the school, it appears," Albus said wearily. "Harry, you knew about this, didn't you?"

Harry hung his head. "Yeah, I knew. I didn't think she was using it on others though, not till Lee showed me. But I thought it was only me and him."

Minerva lay the mirror down on the floor and sat down on the bed next to Harry, wrapping an arm round him. He froze for a minute, before leaning into the touch. "Why didn't you tell one of us, Harry?" she murmured sadly. "I know you weren't happy with Albus, but you could at least have come to me. I would have sorted it out."

Harry squared his shoulders. "It wasn't a big deal, honest. I didn't think it was anyway. I'm guessing from the look on your face that you think it was, right?"

"She had no right at all," Minerva murmured, stroking Harry's hair softly. "And she will pay the price, I promise."

Albus cleared his throat from the floor. "So do I."

The sound of a car door slamming made them all jump. "Who's that up at three am?" Harry asked. Minerva stood and peered through the gap in the curtains.

"There's a couple walking up to that house with the Sold sign up outside. They must be your new neighbours."

"Three am?" Harry repeated. "Sounds like they'll fit in perfectly around here."

"Was that sarcasm?"

Harry grinned. "Hopefully they'll be more interesting than most of the dry old gossips who live round here. Maybe I'll go and introduce myself tomorrow."

"Today, you mean." Minerva looked sharply back round at him. "Go to sleep."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Says the woman calling up her boss in the middle of the night. You woke me up."

"I'm nocturnal." Minerva stepped over the mirror on the floor, back to the bed.

"Professor, you do realise Professor Dumbledore can see up your skirt when you do that?" Harry pointed out. "Or was it deliberate?" he teased.

Minerva frowned. "No it was _not_ deliberate. Albus, I'd thank you to keep your eyes to yourself!"

"I wasn't looking! Honest!" Albus protested as she picked the mirror up from the floor and thrust it under the bedclothes upside-down.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Are you two always like that?"

"Like what?"

"That teasing. A bit unprofessional, isn't it?"

"It's the summer holidays, and besides, I've known Professor Dumbledore since I was eleven. If anyone can tease him it's me. Now go to sleep young man."

"Bossyboots," Harry muttered.

"Mr Potter, is that more cheek?"

"Like you said Professor, it's the holidays. You can't take points." Harry slid back into bed and pulled the covers up. "Night." He paused. "Are you okay sleeping in cat form? That thing about being nocturnal _was_ a joke, right?"

Minerva chuckled, a rare occurrence in the presence of a student. "Could someone who sleeps during the day get a job as a teacher?"

"Good point." Harry yawned and stretched. As he did so a muffled "Ouch!" came from the end of the bed and something shiny fell off the end.

"Sorry Professor, I forgot about you."

"I was waiting to see when you would remember me," Albus said sourly as Minerva retrieved the mirror from the floor.

"Don't be so grumpy."

"I can't help it. You know I'm grumpy when you wake me up in the middle of the night."

"She does it often?" Harry asked sleepily.

"Go to _sleep_, Harry. Albus, you too."

"Finally." Albus yawned. "I'll say hello to Aberforth from you tomorrow. Goodnight, Mina."

--

For once, Hermione couldn't concentrate on her homework.

An Ancient Runes textbook was lying open on her folded arms. She had yet to notice it was upside-down. Her pillows were piled over her head and she had her father's headphones on playing calming classical music on the loudest notch.

Downstairs, even through the headphones and the pillows, she could hear her parents rowing. They had been at it ever since she'd arrived home yesterday. Last night, after discerning what was going on, she had managed to stop them fighting with each other by bursting into tears, but this morning they were shouting again.

_If this is what the holiday is going to be like with them together_, Hermione thought bitterly, _then I'd rather they split up now instead of waiting for me to go back to school._

--

When Harry woke the next morning, there was no cat on the end of his bed. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. "Professor?" he called quietly. No answer.

After checking under the bed and even in the wardrobe, Harry pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and ventured downstairs. Halfway down, he realised he could hear someone in the kitchen.

"Hello?" he called again.

"In here, Harry."

"Where are the Dursleys?" he asked, entering the kitchen. Professor McGonagall was at the sink, dressed in one of Aunt Petunia's old dresses and a pair of rubber gloves.

"Your aunt and uncle have gone out for the day. They left a note on the table for you. I think Master Dursley is out with friends."

Harry picked up the note, scribbled in his uncle's writing. "They want me to do the washing up, get some stuff from the corner shop and greet the new couple at Number Six."

"Well, one out of three done is not bad." Professor McGonagall placed the last clean plate on the drying rack and peeled off her gloves. "I thought I would give you a hand."

Harry grinned. "Thanks, Professor. You didn't have to do that." He opened the cupboard and took out a box of cereal. "Have you had breakfast?"

"Yes I have, thank you Harry." Harry remembered the mouse she had been about the devour the night before and tried not to wonder whether any rodents had played a part in her breakfast. "You go ahead."

Harry searched the fridge for milk, remembered it was on Vernon's list, and decided to have toast instead. Professor McGonagall busied herself with the drying of the Dursleys' breakfast plates while he made a pot of tea. After a short while, the peaceful atmosphere was broken with a large crash from outside, and Professor McGonagall nearly dropped a plate.

"What was that?"

Harry peered out of the kitchen window. A large, flashy sports car seemed to have backed into next-door's own.

"Don't think that new couple will make friends quickly," he remarked as they climbed out of the car, and were immediately shouted at by the neighbours. They were in their late thirties, or early forties; the man was a complete stranger but the woman, small and slight with long dark hair, looked vaguely familiar. "The whole neighbourhood will hate them now. Do you want some tea?"

"No thank you – maybe later. Perhaps you could try and befriend them when you go round," suggested Professor McGonagall, putting away the towel and sitting down at the table.

"That'll make everyone hate them more."

Professor McGonagall had pulled out a hip-flask and Harry eyed it suspiciously. "What's in there?" he asked pointedly, changing the subject.

Professor McGonagall chuckled. "It's not a potion, if that's what you mean. Listen." She shook it, and Harry heard the liquid inside sloshing around, proving it wasn't glutinous. "Just a drink I take with me when I travel. And no, you cannot try some. I don't think you would like it."

"I wasn't going to ask," Harry replied as she took a sip.

--

The day was getting hot and Professor McGonagall padded along in Harry's shadow on the way to the corner shop. Harry deliberately took the long route to avoid all of Dudley's gang's favourite hangouts, and budgeted to get the Professor the fish he'd caught her eyeing longingly as a thank-you. After dropping off the shopping – and Professor McGonagall – back at Number Four, Harry decided to nip over to the new neighbours' to see if they needed anything.

The removal vans had gone, and the sports car was in the drive. Harry rang at the doorbell, and waited. After about five minutes the door was pulled open and he found himself face-to-face with the woman he'd seen getting out the car. She was about the age he had estimated, wearing a simple white summer dress and a silver necklace hung around her neck. "What do you want?"

"I -" Harry began, but stopped as her eyes widened. "Goodness gracious – _Harry Potter?_"

He nodded. "You are …?"

She didn't answer but pulled him inside by the arm. "Honey, guess who just arrived on our doorstep?"

Harry was beginning to like this woman less and less, and wasn't sure how to react. The man's head appeared over the stairway. "Who?"

"Harry Potter!"

The man blinked and repeated, "Who?"

"Oh, honestly, Jezzie! The Boy-Who-Lived! The one who survived You-Know-Who's curse as a baby?"

Jezzie sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I can't keep up with your world, Phebes. Don't expect me to remember everything."

_So he's a Muggle_, Harry mentally noted.

"You're a witch then?" Harry asked the woman.

"Yes I am," she replied. "Jez, come and say hello." She turned back to Harry. "What did you call for?"

"I live next door with my aunt and uncle," Harry said, gesturing out the window at Number Four. "I popped round to see whether you needed any help moving in, like if you've lost something on the way, or the heating's not working, and so on. We've found a lot of people have those sorts of problems when they move."

Jezzie, who had joined them by now, smiled. "Well, that's very kind of you. We'll remember to ask if we need anything. I'm Jezebel Shore, and this is my fiancée, Phoebe." He kissed the top of her head. Harry smiled politely.

"Fancy that, living next door to a celebrity!" Phoebe fanned herself. "Goodness me … Well, it was very kind of you to come round. Actually, there _is_ something – we seem to have lost our matches, and the shop don't seem to stock them; and as you probably know fire charms aren't precise enough to light a wick, I ended up turning the candle into a pool of wax -"

"Besides, I don't fancy not being able to light anything when Phoebe's out," Jezebel cut across her. "Do you have some we can borrow?"

Harry nodded. "I think so; I'll drop some round," he said, fully intending to wait until the Dursleys got home and let one of them do it. Or perhaps just post them through the letterbox. "Sorry, I have to go; it was nice meeting you."

"You two. Thank you for coming over, Harry; I'll show you out."

Phoebe was just opening the door when Harry's eyes fell on a pile of wedding invitations on the hall table. For a moment he just admired the border pattern, before a name made his stop in his tracks.

"Er … Phoebe McGonagall?"

Phoebe looked around. "Sorry?"

"Your name's McGonagall?"

"Well, not for much longer. Why? – Ah. I take it you're one of my sister's students?"

Harry, nodding, didn't miss the change in Phoebe's tone as Professor McGonagall was mentioned. There was suddenly an unmistakeable coldness in it and her eyes grew hard. Her hand also went up to her necklace, as it checking it was still there.

"Like her, do you?"

"Yeah, I do." It came out rather more defensively than Harry had expected. "She's a great teacher." He remembered her insistence that she keep him company over the summer, her banter with Umbridge in his careers consultation, when she got hit with the Stunning spells, even back to his first year when she had put him on the House team rather than expelling him. "Wonderful."

If possible, Phoebe's eyes and tone grew colder. Harry actually shivered as she asked, "What subject does she teach? Defence Against the Dark Arts?"

"No, Transfiguration."

"Well, that's something, I suppose." Phoebe re-opened the door where it had swung shut. "Good day, Harry."

Harry didn't say anything to Professor McGonagall straight away. Instead he found a matchbox and set it aside, wondering what to do. He had the feeling that Professor McGonagall's sister did not like her one bit, and he knew what it felt like to be hated by the people who were supposed to love you. But in the end he decided he should tell her – after all, if the Dursleys moved next door to the Weasleys when he was staying with them he would want to know.

He would tell her her sister was living next door. When she was in a good mood.

**TBC …**

**Review Responses******

herbyXX120: Yeah, I was the one who put Poppy and Aberforth together. I couldn't believe no-one had before!****

ImSoMMAD: Er … no … Minerva is not a goddess. Never thought of or done that before. I made her an angel once … But, no, she's not a goddess. She _is_ immortal, but there is another explanation. And I'm not telling you why Aberforth wanted to go to the library. Let's say he does some very shady dealings. As for Minerva leaving Albus and Teasel alone – she trusts Albus, and the desire to help Harry is greater than her mistrust of Teasel. Thanks for reviewing, hope you enjoyed this chapter as much!****

T: Don't worry, I never completely abandon fics. They often go long periods without updating, but that's just the way I work. (I find it frustrating too.) Glad you like it!****

Thanks also to** Lionfire9224, adge9631 **and** AgainstEvidence** for reviewing!


	3. Unlocking the Future

**AN:** Well, a lot happens in this chapter. Tell me it was worth the wait!

**Chapter Three: Unlocking the Future**

"Good morning, Headmaster."

Albus looked up in time to see Teasel Ferre join the table. He opened his mouth to point out that the seat she had casually slid into was actually Minerva's, but stopped. It would sound far too petty, and Minerva was not even there.

"Good morning," he greeted her. "Did you sleep well, Teasel?"

"Mm … could have been better," she replied in a strange tone as she reached for the orange juice. "The room is beautiful though. They all are."

"Well, I'm glad it met with your satisfaction." Albus offered her the toast rack.

"Will Professor McGonagall be joining us for breakfast?" Teasel asked.

"No, Minerva has already left."

"Oh, what a shame."

Albus noticed Pomona and Filius share a look, but didn't see the joke.

* * *

"Don't you have homework or something to do?"

Harry looked up. "Huh?"

Professor McGonagall frowned at him. "You've been staring at the same patch on the kitchen table for about forty minutes. Is there something wrong?" she added gently, sitting down opposite him.

"Well …" This would be the perfect time. "I was just thinking … You know the couple that just moved in?"

"Yes," Professor McGonagall said slowly.

"Well, the woman's a witch. She saw me and knew who I was. And …" Harry paused. "She said she knew you too … Her name's Phoebe."

"I only know one -" Professor McGonagall broke off, comprehension in her eyes. "Oh, sweet Merlin."

Harry sat in awkward silence as Professor McGonagall stood and looked out of the window, before starting to pace nervously. Eventually she spoke again. "Did she … say much about me?"

"Um, well, she asked what you taught and I told her. She asked if I liked you and I said you were the best. That was about it."

Professor McGonagall smiled faintly, but still looked somewhat distracted. "I'm flattered, Harry." She looked out of the window again, freezing as the door of her sister's house opened … but it was just Jezebel who came out and got in the car.

"The man's leaving," she murmured. "Maybe I should go over and see her."

"Why not?" Harry asked.

Professor McGonagall sighed. "I haven't spoken to Phoebe – or rather, she hasn't spoken to me – in a very long time." She paused. "Since I was about your age, actually."

"How come?"

"Oh, I was disowned," Professor McGonagall said matter-of-factly. "Long story. But Phoebe's mind was never quite as closed as my mother's … I might have a chance to make amends."

"Well then, go for it, Professor."

She smiled. "I think I will. Pass those matches …"

* * *

"And when you've had breakfast, you can spend the morning tidying your new room, it looks like a Niffler's been in there!" Mrs Abbott called. Hannah sighed.

"Yes, Mum."

"We've only been here a couple of days!"

"Yes, Mum."

Hannah heard her mother return to the kitchen, and looked around the basement. It was much bigger than the one at her old house, and still had dusty shelves and empty crates in it. One wall had something rude spray-painted onto it. For the hundredth time Hannah wondered why on earth her parents chose Riddle Manor. It hadn't been lived in for around half a century and the villagers had all said it had a nasty history. But her father, a Muggle History teacher, loved old houses and thought it was a bargain.

She shivered, but not because of the clammy coldness. There was a distinct air about the house she hated. Her skin prickled particularly around the drawing room. Neither of her parents seemed able to sense it; or, if they did, they ignored it and pretended not to.

Hannah knelt on the cold stone floor and began rummaging through the boxes her parents had dumped down there out of the way, trying to find a frying pan for her mother. At first, she thought she had imagined the noise.

It came again, slightly louder this time. A faint kind of thumping, accompanied by muffled rattling. Hannah looked up sharply, eyes darting nervously around the basement.

The next thing she knew, it was four hours later, and she was back in her new and much tidier bedroom, her mother calling her down for lunch.

* * *

There were very few teachers left at Hogwarts; just Albus, Poppy, Sybil and Teasel. The rest had left soon after breakfast. To give her a feel for the castle, Albus was sending Teasel on errands here, there and everywhere. One of them took her to the North Tower, and after getting lost three times, she finally arrived in the Divination classroom.

"Sybil?" she called. "I have a message from the Headmaster. Sybil? – Oh, there you are! … What's wrong?"

When Sybil spoke, it was not in her usual airy-fairy demeanour, but harsh tones that made the hairs on the back of Teasel's neck prickle.

"_It has begun … Tonight, the world will be changed … A key will walk on earth, a key to unlock the Dark Lord's downfall … And many will die at the hands of an innocent … The night creatures will rise as they are called to his side, but the one who lived will lead them into the light._"_  
_  
Teasel fled.

* * *

"_You_."

That was Phoebe's reaction when she opened the door and saw her.

"Yes, me," Minerva said, outwardly calm, but inside she was squirming in nerves. "Can I come in?"

Phoebe grudgingly moved sideways to grant her room to enter. "I've been expecting you to show up, ever since your student said he knew you. So. Teaching at Hogwarts, are you?"

"Don't tell me you didn't know," Minerva replied.

Phoebe seemed to bristle. "Of course I knew. I was merely making conversation before I started."

"Before you started what?"

A hand seemed to appear from nowhere and struck Minerva across the face. She cried out as something burnt her cheek. As Phoebe drew her hand back, Minerva spotted an engagement ring on it.

"That's silver," she gasped.

"Really?" Phoebe studied the ring in interest. "I assumed it wasn't real. Seems Jezzie has more money than he made out." She slipped it daintily off her finger, grabbed Minerva's hand and pressed it hard into her palm before she had a chance to snatch it away.

The pain seared through her hand as if someone had speared it with a red-hot poker. Minerva wrenched it out of Phoebe's grip and staggered backwards. Her palm had an ugly red, raw ring imprinted upon it.

"That," Phoebe snarled, "is for Mother." She darted forward and kicked Minerva in the chest, and as Minerva was trying to keep her balance she tripped her backwards. Minerva toppled back into the wall – except it wasn't a wall, but a basement door, which was only pulled to and gave way.

The fall seemed to take forever. Minerva had been taken unawares, and unwilling to fight her own sister, and now all she could see was the insane look on Phoebe's face as she stood at the top and watched her fall. Minerva heard the _crack_ of her ankle breaking underneath her as she hit the floor. It didn't hurt. She knew from the gleeful look on Phoebe's face that it was likely to be the least of her injuries.

Minerva, trying to ignore the pain in her hand as the silver did its work, scrambled backwards until she backed into the wall. Phoebe followed, casually picking up what looked like a fire extinguisher from a bracket in the wall as she did so.

"I knew you'd come at some point," she addressed her calmly while Minerva tried to keep from losing it. "You were always the soft-hearted one." Her eyes narrowed. "Of course, that's a bit of a paradox now, considering you don't even _have_ a heart -"

"I do." It was stupid, but Minerva said it automatically. She was used to dealing with vampire phobias and misconceptions. Phoebe ignored her correction.

"- but seeing as your basic character would probably remain I guessed you would come along sometime to try and – ah – _make amends_." Phoebe snorted. "Or kill me in my sleep. One of them." She pulled a chain from round her neck to show to Minerva. "See? Silver. I never take it off. I was prepared from the day Mother kicked you out of the house." She tucked it away and glared at Minerva. "You know she died? Two years after you Turned. Shame at having a filthy creature like you in the family."

The words stung, but the silver burn hurt more. "Phoebe, please, let's talk about this."

"I _am_ talking. And believe me, I've been waiting for this for a long time." For the first time Minerva felt fear as Phoebe's eyes glittered in a way that reminded her simultaneously of Severus when he was taking points from Gryffindor and Albus when he was offered something sweet. Her fear was justified a moment later as Phoebe took aim with the whatever-it-was. Now Minerva thought it looked like one of those Muggle things that blasted fire. "_You killed my sister_."

All Phoebe obviously knew about vampires were from the original theories, that a Dark spirit invaded the body and vanquished the soul. "Phoebe, listen to me, I _am_ your sister. You've got it wr -"

Phoebe pulled the trigger. All Minerva had time to register was that the fire was not a normal colour, before the agony made her oblivious to all else.

* * *

While Professor McGonagall was gone, Harry had tried to get some homework done, but he couldn't concentrate properly. He kept wondering what was going on next door. He kept reliving Phoebe's face changing abruptly as her sister was mentioned, kept seeing the cold, almost insane look in her eyes. Had he done the right thing, letting Professor McGonagall go over there?

After twenty minutes, he decided.

_Something's not right. I'm going over there now._

He cautiously made his way downstairs and opened the door. Looking over at the other house, he saw no signs that there was even anyone in. A shiver ran down his spine, telling him inexplicably that something was very, very wrong.

Harry broke into a run at the fence and vaulted it, driven on by a feeling of dread and determination. He landed in next-door's flowerbed. Ignoring the squashed petunias, he hurried towards their door. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. Without thinking Harry pulled out his wand and whispered "_Alohomora_".

The door swung open and Harry entered, suddenly slowly. Full of dread.

"Professor McGonagall?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly.

He strained his ears. He couldn't hear a thing. Quickly he began a search of the ground floor, calling out her name every couple of seconds, getting more and more desperate.

"_Professor McGonagall??_"

He returned to the kitchen, and spotted the basement door, He pushed it open, and the silencing charm broke.

There were screams coming from below. His heart went cold as he recognised who they were coming from.

Harry charged down the stairs, and launched himself at Phoebe, tacking her to the ground. The whatever-it-was she had been shooting fire with fell to the floor. Harry remembered his wand, Stunned Phoebe and pushed her out of the way.

"Professor? _Professor!_"

He dropped to his knees beside her. Professor McGonagall was silent now, huddled limply and shaking slightly in a corner. There were burns from the fire all over her. Her eyes were open, but unfocused.

"Oh, Merlin … Professor, can you hear me?"

She nodded slightly. Harry looked wildly around and spotted a sink. He pulled off his sweatshirt and t-shirt, ran his t-shirt under the cold tap and gingerly pressed it to a burn on her arm. She winced and her breath caught sharply.

"Not …" she croaked, "helping …"

"What should I do, Professor?"

"Thirsty …"

Harry went to squeeze out some of the water from his t-shirt, but she shook her head. "Not water."

One of her hands was fumbling with her dress; Harry understood and gently drew her hip-flask out of her pocket.

"Is this what you want?"

Professor McGonagall nodded and went to take it, but her shaking hand knocked it to the floor. A dark liquid spilled everywhere, soaking into Harry's jeans and her dress. She let out a moan.

Harry stared at the spilt liquid and back at his Head of House. Something clicked. "You're a vampire? … You need blood?"

"Yes," she gasped. Her breathing was getting more and more erratic.

He didn't hesitate, gently manoeuvring her head so it rested on his shoulder. "Okay, Professor; here."

"Harry, no …"

"Just drink!"

There was only a fleeting moment of pain as her teeth sank into his neck, before the area went strangely numb.

* * *

"It was horrible, Headmaster. I know Sybil Trelawney of old, and I have never seen her like that. Her voice went all harsh and her eyes rolled and -"

"Teasel, what exactly did she _say?_" Albus pressed.

"I … don't really remember all of it … Something about night creatures, and the world being changed … and a key, something about a key. I'm sorry, I can't remember more than that."

Albus opened the door to his cabinet and drew out his Pensieve. "Would you object strenuously if I asked to view your memory of it myself? It really is very important that I know what Sybil said, Teasel."

"Go ahead."

"Thank you. Just imagine the scene in your mind …" Albus put his wand to her temple and gently drew from the depths of her mind a strand of memory, which he deposited in his Pensieve and poked with his wand. The figure of Sybil Trelawney arose and repeated the new prophecy.

"A key to unlock the Dark Lord's downfall …" Albus mused. That sounded promising. The part about many dying at the hands of an innocent, however, chilled him to the bone.

"May I go now, Albus?" Teasel said quietly.

"Oh, of course. I'll be leaving for my brother's home in a couple of hours, so I will see you later in the summer, Teasel." Albus paused, and Teasel turned to leave the room. "Teasel?"

"Yes?"

Albus sighed. He hated doing this on anyone. But it was for the best. "_Obliviate._ Good day, Teasel."

"Er, good day, Headmaster," she replied, rather unsurely, and left.

He looked down at the now silently rotating figure in his Pensieve. Playing the memory again, he thought about the prophecy line by line.

_It has begun … Tonight, the world will be changed …_

That could mean almost anything. The world was changing all the time. But judging by the rest of the prophecy, this was something Voldemort-related. Albus decided to forewarn Severus to keep his eyes peeled.

_A key will walk on earth, a key to unlock the Dark Lord's downfall …_

Obviously a metaphor. That was the problem with prophecies, they could be interpreted so many different ways … but a literal walking key didn't seem very credible to Albus.

_Many will die at the hands of an innocent …_

That was by far the worst part. Albus considered the "innocent". Someone under Imperious perhaps?

_The night creatures will rise as they are called to his side …_

Now that seemed fairly straightforward. Albus had already predicted, based on the last war, that Voldemort would be gathering an army of goodness knows what kind of creatures. The phrase "night creatures", however, could specifically mean nocturnal beasts and beings, instead of the metaphorical "night", meaning "Dark".

_But the one who lived will lead them into the light._

Probably the most interesting line. The "one who lived" was most likely Harry. Lead them into the light … Was that literal or metaphorical? Albus was pulled out of his musings by a voice calling his name.

"Professor Dumbledore! _Albus Dumbledore!_"

It was Harry's voice, and he sounded frantic. Albus looked round, and saw the two-way mirror on his desk was glowing. He picked it up. "Harry? What's wrong?"

The boy's face appeared in the mirror, panic written all over it. "It's Professor McGonagall, sir." Albus' heart went still. "She's hurt – badly."

He swallowed. "What happened?"

"Fire."

"Are you in your house?"

"Yes."

"Good. I'll fetch Poppy and we'll be over as soon as we can, all right? Try not to panic, Harry." Harry swallowed and nodded. Albus ended the conversation and bolted from his office.

* * *

It seemed to take forever for Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey to arrive. Harry paced his bedroom, where he'd somehow managed to half-carry, half-drag Professor McGonagall. She was on his bed, either asleep, or unconscious – probably the latter. At least her breathing was more even since she'd drunk from him.

Harry rubbed his neck. The wound had closed on its own, and the area still felt a little numb, his head a little light. The three Dursleys would be home soon. He couldn't worry about that, he kept looking over at his teacher. Had she always been that pale? Harry couldn't remember.

Finally, finally he heard a voice calling his name from below. He yelled down the stairs, and Dumbledore came running up, Madam Pomfrey close behind.

"Minerva? _Minerva!_" Dumbledore dropped to his knees by the bed, taking her hand in his. "Merlin! Minerva, talk to me." He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb, his other hand running fingers through her loose hair, and kissed her forehead. "Come on, Mina," he murmured. "You're stronger than this."

Madam Pomfrey took one look at her and turned to Harry. "Potter, I need to know exactly what happened to her."

"There was this sort of fire," Harry explained. "It must've been magical fire, it was kind of silver …"

Madam Pomfrey paled. "Silver? That's not good." She turned back to Professor McGonagall, gently prised Dumbledore off of her and started to examine the burns. "You're right, it's Silver Flames."

Dumbledore let out a low, angry hiss, startling Harry. "Who did this? Harry, _who did this?_ I'm going to curse them into -"

"Albus!" Madam Pomfrey snapped. "There will be no cursing of anyone. If you want to help Minerva, go downstairs with Harry."

"I'm not leaving!" Harry said hotly. "Can't I help?"

"Minerva's been burnt with Silver Flames. If left untreated, the burns will kill her. I need to draw the toxins out of her system, and believe me it won't be pretty. The best thing you can do for her is not watch, Harry."

Harry swallowed and nodded. Dumbledore's hand closed on his shoulder. The Headmaster looked calm now, but Harry could feel his hand shaking as he steered Harry out of the room and down the stairs.

**TBC …**


	4. Silver and Keys

**IMPORTANT AN:** Okay, an addition to the usual disclaimer. Starting with this chapter (well, the one before that really, but only obvious here), I've borrowed a plot point from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Anyone who knows the show will spot it right away, anyone who doesn't will probably be able to guess due to something weird and unexplained that occurs. All I can say is, it _will_ be explained. Eventually. Oh, and it doesn't belong to me. Nothing is mine except the odd OC and most of the plot, and anything that isn't mine belongs to JK Rowling, except the aforementioned exception that belongs to Joss Whedon.

* * *

Chapter Four: Silver and Keys

The two of them settled in the living-room. Dumbledore paced the room. Harry had rarely, if ever, seen him look this out of control. He just huddled on the sofa, his arms wrapped tightly around himself, trying not to picture Professor McGonagall's white face.

Both of them jumped as screaming started upstairs. Harry leapt to his feet, but Dumbledore put a hand on his arm, although he looked as if he was struggling not to run upstairs himself. "It's a painful process, Harry. She will be all right."

Harry just nodded, trying to make himself believe it. He could see the worry in Dumbledore's eyes – there was no twinkle at all. Suddenly he needed to sit down, and did so, nearly missing the chair.

"Careful," Dumbledore murmured, eyes on the ceiling. After a moment he seemed to force himself to sit down next to Harry.

There was silence between them for several moments. Eventually Harry, trying to block the screaming out more than anything, said suddenly, "I shouldn't have let her go over there."

Dumbledore looked at him, but Harry continued before he could speak. "I knew there was something funny about that woman. I shouldn't have told Professor McGonagall to go. This is all my fault."

"What happened?" Dumbledore clasped Harry's shoulder. "Who did it?"

"Phoebe. Professor McGonagall's sister. She moved in next door, and Professor McGonagall went round to try and make amends." By the time Harry has finished speaking his voice was almost a whisper.

Dumbledore sighed. "That's my Mina."

Harry looked curiously at Dumbledore, wondering what exactly he meant, but Dumbledore seemed to have slid into a world of his own, staring into space. After a minute or so something seemed to register with him, and he suddenly looked back at Harry. "Harry, it's not your fault."

"Yes it is." Harry swallowed. "I told her Phoebe was there, and then I encouraged her when she was considering going over to talk to her. I should have just kept my mouth shut."

"You had no idea what would happen," Dumbledore said gently. "You couldn't have known. It's not your fault, Harry."

Silence fell again for a while. Harry's mind kept repeating the incident, kept showing him images. In the end he spoke just to try and distract them both.

"That fire … it's specifically to kill vampires, isn't it?"

Dumbledore looked sharply at him. "How long have you known -"

"I only just figured it out."

"And you're still worried about her?"

"Of course I am; I don't care if she's a vampire," Harry replied indignantly.

Dumbledore smiled. "She would be touched if she heard you say that. Most wizards wouldn't be so accepting."

"I'm not most wizards," Harry murmured.

"In answer to your question, yes, Silver Flames were specifically designed to repel Minerva's kind. The blessing is they're hard to conjure and expensive to buy. Ordinary silver is a much more common threat."

"That's poisonous to vampires, isn't it?"

"Very. Just touching it burns them."

Harry shivered, his admiration for Professor McGonagall going up a few more notches. To live in fear like that, of not only common materials but of being revealed as something the wizarding world seemed to despise and distrust? He wasn't sure he could do it.

_Professor McGonagall Professor McGonagall Professor McGonagall Professor McGonagall._

Vampire or not, Harry loved her, and couldn't imagine what life would be like without her. He could remember the shock and despair he had felt when he had heard she was in St Mungo's after the Stunning spells, and tried not to imagine what it would be like if she was gone forever. After Sirius's death, he didn't think he could handle it.

"I can't lose her as well," he whispered out loud.

Dumbledore held out his hands. Harry hesitatingly allowed himself to be pulled into a firm hug. After a moment remaining stiff, he relaxed into the headmaster's hold.

An owl swept into the room. For several minutes they both ignored it, but it grew tired of waiting and deposited the envelope on Dumbledore's head before sweeping out the open window in a huff.

It was addressed to Harry. Desperate for anything to try and take his mind off Professor McGonagall, Harry slit it open with trembling hands. Scanning it, he only registered one word: _Expelled_.

Harry dropped it. He was being expelled from Hogwarts, and he didn't even care. All that mattered was Professor McGonagall, up in his room … dying …

"What is it?" Dumbledore asked quietly. Harry thought he, like himself, just wanted a distraction.

"I'm being expelled."

"_What?_"

"I did magic next door."

Before Dumbledore could reply – Harry wasn't sure what he was going to say, but judging by the look of fury in his eyes Harry didn't think it was going to be anything good – the cries faltered and stopped.

Harry, feeling more like a little child than ever, clutched at the front of Dumbledore's robes, his breath hitching in anxiety. Professor McGonagall had stopped screaming. That could be good news … or bad news.

An eternity seemed to stretch. Harry didn't know how long they had both been silent for, waiting for some signal from Madam Pomfrey … but nothing came. Dumbledore's hold on Harry was just as tight as Harry's on him. For once they seemed nothing like headmaster and pupil – more like a family, clinging together for comfort until their fears were either confirmed or denied.

"No news is good news," Dumbledore said hoarsely, when there was still no sign.

Harry swallowed and blinked furiously. _No news is good news. No news is good news. No news is good news_, he kept repeating. It didn't help.

Finally, the silence was shattered by a call from upstairs.

The blissful sound turned Harry's heart to ice as the two of them raced for the stairs first. It took less than ten seconds for them to arrive outside Harry's door, panting and out of breath. Harry stopped outside. Suddenly he was terribly afraid. What if the worst had happened? What if she was -

"Harry?"

Dumbledore had one hand on the doorknob, but he was looking back at his pupil, his strained face in an expression of anxiety. "Are you all right?"

Harry shook his head, took a deep breath and pushed the door open himself.

The first thing he registered was that she was breathing. It was as if a great stone had been lifted off his chest as he saw Professor McGonagall lying on his bed, her chest rising and falling gently, her eyes closed, her hair spread out over the pillow. Harry started towards her, but Dumbledore took his arm gently.

"How is she?" he asked Madam Pomfrey quietly.

The mediwitch looked tired and strained, but she smiled. "She'll be all right. I managed to draw out enough of the toxins for there to no longer be a fatality risk, although those burns will not heal quickly - she'll be asleep for a while, and be bed-bound for a good week, if not more. Albus, I believe you can provide a potion to help."

Dumbledore nodded. "I can."

"Good. And, in addition to that, she'll need – uh …"

"I know," Harry quickly assured her just as Dumbledore said, "He knows."

"Oh. Well … she'll need to, um, feed soon, and more regularly to help recover her strength."

"Well, that's not too much of a problem," Dumbledore said. "I can help there -"

Harry shuddered slightly. For some reason, he found the thought of Professor McGonagall sinking fangs into Dumbledore's neck slightly disturbing, yet he had let her do the same to him without turning a hair.

"No, it's alright Professor; I'll do it."

Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey looked at him incredulously.

"Harry … are you sure? You _do_ know what this means, right?"

Harry nodded and shrugged. "Yeah. It's not like it hurts, or anything. Not like I thought it might."

"What do you mean? Did you let her -?"

"I had to. She would've died otherwise. If it had taken me any longer to figure out what she needed, she'd probably have been dead before you two got here."

Dumbledore looked at him sharply. "I can't imagine Minerva could have been in much of a condition to tell you what to do."

"She didn't have to. I might not have learnt much in DADA my first year, but Quirrell's vampire phobia was pretty well known, and even Muggles have films and stuff about them. I know how they feed."

"Harry," Dumbledore said seriously, a bite of anxiety in his voice, "where did she bite you?"

Harry blinked at him. He'd have thought it was obvious. "My neck."

Dumbledore let out a groan and Madam Pomfrey paled.

"What? Professor?"

"Harry, vampires, like Minerva, are only meant to feed off Muggles, and even then only in an emergency if no animals are available. Since Muggles are not magical, they can't Turn. Wizards, on the other hand, almost always do."

Harry paled. "But – you said -"

"You can only Turn if you're bitten in the neck. In an emergency if there are no Muggles or animals available, the wrist or arm is the best place." Dumbledore demonstrated. "There's no chance of Turning then."

Harry's mind was churning. "So … I'm … going to Turn?" He gulped.

"Most likely," said Dumbledore.

Harry sat down. Hard.

* * *

Draco looked around him. He was standing in his father's study. The house-elves were in the process of cleaning it. There was no one around.

Lucius Malfoy's desk was very old, made of polished dark oak with serpents carved into the sides. Draco ran a finger over one of them. The tiny emerald eye set into the wood seemed to stare at him, and he snatched his hand back.

The desk was usually kept locked with a triple lock and a password. The house-elves, however, had managed to unlock it and had left it open wide. Inside the desk were neatly organised papers. Draco's hands trembled as he uncovered some kind of map. He wasn't sure exactly what it was of, but there were crosses marked in red ink and a Dark Mark in one corner. One name caught his eye from the parchment: _Riddle House_.

He thought he heard somebody coming, and hurriedly folded the map back up again and pushed it back inside the desk, uncovering as he did so a small decorative tin. Thinking it was what was left of Lucius' tobacco, Draco pocketed it just as his mother appeared in the doorway.

"Draco, what on earth do you think you are doing?"

"I was just seeing how far the house-elves had got, Mother."

"Come out of there. You know your father's study is out of bounds. Just because he is not currently using it is no reason to break that rule."

"Yes, Mother. Sorry."

Back in the privacy of his own wing of the house, Draco opened the tin, intending to smoke the remains of the tobacco – but instead, the tin was filled with some sticky resin-like substance he couldn't identify. He sighed and threw it in the fire.

* * *

It was getting dark when the Dursleys returned home. Madam Pomfrey had left, but Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were still in the house. Harry braced himself for dealing with his uncle. He knew he should break the news to Vernon that there were wizards in the house before he came upstairs and caught Dumbledore in the act of moving Professor McGonagall into the spare room.

Harry ventured downstairs and into the hall, just as three of them were taking off their shoes.

"Uncle Vernon?"

"What?" his uncle growled.

Harry took a deep breath as his cousin dodged past him and started upstairs. "I thought you ought to know that my Headmaster and Head of House are staying here." As Vernon turned an interesting shade of purple and tried to interrupt angrily, he continued, "Professor McGonagall's really not well and can't travel, so they don't have much of a choice. They won't get in your way."

"We're sorry for any inconvenience, Mr Dursley," said a voice behind Harry, making him jump. "But as Harry said, we're not left with a lot of options. You won't even know we're here."

"No, you won't bloody get in our way," Vernon said angrily. "Petunia, put your shoes back on -"

They were interrupted when the door opened again and Dudley came in.

"Get in the car, Dudley, we're leaving. Daisy!" Vernon yelled up the stairs. "We're going back out."

"I don't want to go back out!"

Petunia stopped Vernon before he could bellow again. "Vernon, let her stay here if she wants to. Let's just go."

Harry and Dumbledore watched as the three Dursleys left the house and drove off – where, Harry didn't really know or care. Dumbledore sighed.

"I suppose that could have gone better." He paused. "If they stay away too long, it will upset the wards. Do you know how long they're likely to be, Harry?"

"Dunno. They're mad. When I first started getting Hogwarts letters my uncle drove us all around the country before Hagrid caught up with us. Who knows."

"Well, at least your cousin's elected to remain behind; that should hold them for a couple of weeks at least." Dumbledore started up the stairs. "And if your aunt, uncle and other cousin are not back by then, we will have to make alternative arrangements. But we can cross that bridge if and when we come to it."

Harry nodded, relieved that the three worst Dursleys would be out of the way at least for a while, and followed Dumbledore.

* * *

A bitten wizard, Dumbledore explained, Turned at the next full moon, which was that night. As the sun set, he lay out blankets and cushions on Harry's bedroom floor to make it softer to lie on.

"Why can't I just Turn in bed?" Harry asked.

"You will fall out," was Dumbledore's reply. Harry gulped. It seemed Turning was going to be pretty painful. Still, at least he didn't have to do it every full moon, like Remus. This was just a one-way ticket.

"There isn't a way to make a vampire back into a wizard, is there?" he asked, just to be sure.

"If there is, nobody has ever found it." Dumbledore looked up out of the window. "It's time."

Harry lay down apprehensively as Dumbledore cast a silencing charm around the bedroom, so as not to disturb Professor McGonagall, Daisy or the neighbours. Afterwards he knelt down beside Harry and took his right hand in both of his.

"Feel free to break my fingers."

As the moon rose and the first twinge of pain shot down his back, Harry gasped, "Not a problem."

After that his mouth seized up and he couldn't talk, only cry out incomprehensibly as his teeth shifted around in his jaws. This was happening at the same time as his shoulder blades crunched and moved. Harry felt as if his very bones were on fire. It wasn't quite as bad as the Cruciatus, but came a close second. His blood seemed to run red hot, before suddenly turning ice-cold. Harry's insides were churning, as if he was about to be sick, but settled as the rest died down. He still felt cold, but it felt natural; and his bones still ached horribly, but had stopped moving. More than anything now, he felt exhausted.

"Harry?"

He squinted. He could just make out something silvery. "Professor Dumbledore?" he queried wearily.

Dumbledore didn't answer, instead he wrapped his arms around Harry and lifted him gently onto his bed. Harry had barely rested his head on his pillow before he slid into a deep sleep.

* * *

For once, Albus was the one awake. After healing his three broken fingers, he found himself unable to sleep, and flicked through the day's paper idly, stopping suddenly when a headline caught his eye.

_**GRUESOME MURDER IN LITTLE HANGLETON**_  
Albus checked – it was definitely today's paper.

Patrick Key, 39, of Great Hangleton, was found dead early this morning. His body was discovered by a dog, in the neighbouring town of Little Hangleton. The cause of death has yet to be confirmed, but the body had been dismembered and scattered through a field, with his head nailed to the trunk of a yew tree. Key was a simple tradesman, and only one brother in the district. So far police have named no suspects.

A murder in Little Hangleton? Perhaps nothing, but the name of the victim had his attention. Patrick _Key_.

"_A key will walk on earth, a key to unlock the Dark Lord's downfall_."

He'd been distracted with Minerva and Harry and the new prophecy had completely slipped his mind. No sooner had he started thinking about it again, however, it slipped again as someone upstairs screamed …

* * *

"Minerva."

"Go away," Minerva mumbled. "I'm trying to sleep."

"You _are_ asleep," replied the voice, amused. Minerva's eyes flickered open.

"Wh-where am I?"

"Your mind, of course." A figure was beginning to come into focus in front of her through the darkness. Minerva realised she was standing, and the pain had gone.

"Who are you?"

The figure stepped forward, and she gasped and drew backwards.

"Get out of my head, Tom!"  
**  
TBC …**


	5. Love and Immortality

**General review response:** Daisy was not introduced for a reason. You will find out why eventually. I'm just concentrating on these characters for the time being, the other ships and plotlines will start to come in once term starts. There's only so many scenes I can write that take place in the holiday without giving away some vital information.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Love and Immortality**

"Get out of my head, Tom!"

Voldemort merely looked at her. "Why should I? Your precious Dumbledore isn't here to protect you."

"Get lost," Minerva spat.

"Gladly. But first I feel we need to … catch up. I mean, it's been years, and you _are_ an old schoolmate."

"This is my head, Tom. I can expel you from it without moving a muscle."

"Ah," Voldemort said, "but you haven't yet, have you? Which means you subconsciously want to talk."

"I _said_, get lost!"

"Make me," he said, like a stubborn child.

Minerva concentrated hard on Voldemort being expelled from her mind … but nothing happened. Voldemort smiled wider.

"You're not strong enough, Minerva. You're still weak from when your sister attacked you."

Minerva glared at him. "How did you know about that?"

He almost rolled his eyes. "Do the words '_I'm in your head_' mean nothing to you?"

"Get out."

"I shall not," Voldemort teased. "Not till you give me what I came for."

"Which is?"

"I want Harry Potter."

Minerva laughed out loud. "Some things never change. You are too predictable, Tom."

Voldemort's eyes flashed. "Stop calling me that!"

"Tom, Tom, Tom," Minerva chanted, a satisfying feeling in her mocking.

"You," Voldemort hissed, "will deliver him to me."

Minerva laughed again. "Over my dead body."

"That could be arranged. But there is a far better way, which would result in far less trouble for you and me."

"Surprise me."

"Supposing I told you," Voldemort said, now calmly stroking his wand, "that I was on the verge of finding a cure for mortality?"

"So that's what you call it."

"Under ordinary circumstances I would never divulge the cure to anyone." Voldemort's eyes were glittering. "But Harry Potter is a very special case. He trusts you. You could easily hand him over to me. And if you did, I might just be pleased enough to give you a cut."

Minerva rolled her eyes. "Two flaws in your plan, Tom. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm a vampire. I'm _already_ immortal. And the second, bigger flaw, is that there is nothing you could offer me that would make me even _consider_ handing Harry over to you."

Voldemort laughed. "Oh my _dear_ Minerva, the cure is not for _you_."

"Don't call me that. And who's it meant to be for?"

"How could the Sorting Hat possibly have considered Ravenclaw for you? Your precious Dumbledore, of course."

"He would never take it, and neither would I. Give up, Tom. I am not giving you Harry and that is the end of it."

"He's not going to be around forever," Voldemort replied, ignoring the second half of Minerva's speech again.

"Who? Harry?"

"_Dumbledore_. Think, Minerva. He's … how old now … a hundred and fifty? And mortal through and through. But _you_, my dear -"

"Don't call me that."

"- are immortal, like you said. Imagine all the lonely years ahead of you once he's gone. How long have you known him, sixty years? Practically your whole life. He _is_ your life."

"Shut up, Tom!" Hot, painful anger was coursing through Minerva, but she couldn't help but realise what he was saying was true … Which just fuelled her anger even more.

"You know I'm right, don't you? I can tell. Immortality is not a curse, Minerva. Love is the true curse. You see what it does to people? What it will do to _you?_"

"Stop it!"

"All those years … hundreds … thousands … all on your own …"

"Shut – up!"

"All on your own … grieving for your love … Forever …"

"SHUT UP!"

A massive wave of heat threw Voldemort backwards and out of sight. Minerva heard him scream. The heat subsided and she slid down onto her knees, her head in her hands, trying to push out the words that were echoing in her ears.

"_You know I'm right …_"

* * *

Harry sat bolt upright, and wished he hadn't as his bones twinged in protest. The pain was forgotten a moment later as he realised what had woken him. He bolted from the room and arrived in the spare room at the same moment as Dumbledore, to see Professor McGonagall screaming in her sleep, twisting in the bed.

"Minerva! Mina, wake up!" Dumbledore shook her, trying to wake her.

She jerked awake. "Get out of my head!" she gasped.

"I'm not in your head! Mina, Mina, it's all right. Look at me." Harry stood to one side out of the way as Dumbledore calmed her down. He recognised the look on her face – it was similar to the one he had on his face whenever he had a vision of Voldemort.

A hand slipped into his, making him jump, and he looked round. Daisy was standing next to him in her pyjamas, looking frightened. "Harry, what's wrong with her?" she whispered.

"I'm not entirely sure," he murmured, squeezing his cousin's hand gently. "But she's in good hands, she'll be okay."

Daisy nodded, white-faced. Professor McGonagall was much calmer now, and started to speak.

"Tom Riddle," she whispered to Dumbledore. Harry tensed. "He was in my head."

"Who -" Daisy began to whisper. Harry was ready with an answer.

"A very bad wizard."

She gulped.

"What did he want?" Dumbledore asked, apparently calmly but Harry could see the rage in his eyes.

"Harry."

"Figures," Harry muttered.

Dumbledore frowned. "I don't understand. Tom knows perfectly well you would never -" He broke off, and raised his wand. Daisy took a step backwards. Dumbledore cursed. "He's broken through the wards!"

"_What?_" Harry gasped. "How?"

"How can wait." Dumbledore pointed his wand at the clock on the bedside table. "_Portus._ Harry, take your cousin to the Hog's Head. Tell the barman I sent you, and I will be right behind you with Minerva. Go!"

Harry, gripping Daisy's hand firmly, grabbed the Portkey. A nauseating ride later, they tumbled onto an unfamiliar stone floor.

"Sorry," Harry said as Daisy shuddered. "Should have warned you about that. C'mon, let's get out the way for the Professors."

"Harry," Daisy said once she had clambered to her feet and taken a good look around at the stacks of crates and barrels, "where are we?"

Before Harry could answer, the door to the cold stone room opened and in came the barman of the Hog's Head. Through the doorway Harry could see the grubby interior of the pub.

"Thought I heard someone come in," said the grumpy barman, looking Harry up and down. "Is Albus with you?"

"He said he'd be right behind …" Harry bit his lip, looking around anxiously, and breathed a sigh of relief as Dumbledore appeared behind him, carrying Professor McGonagall in his arms.

"Ah, Aberforth. Just the man I wanted to see. Could you take Minerva upstairs, please, and these two with you?" He placed Professor McGonagall carefully in the barman's arms and proceeded to create another Portkey.

"Professor!" Harry burst out. "What are you doing?"

It was too late – he had already disappeared.

"Follow me, kids," said Dumbledore's brother. He led them through a second door and up a flight of stairs. "What happened to you then, Minerva?"

"Don't ask," Professor McGonagall replied in a faint voice.

Aberforth carried Professor McGonagall into a bedroom and laid her down on the four-poster. Harry and Daisy followed them into the room. They all jumped a moment later as a stack of packing-cases appeared from thin air, followed a few moments later by Dumbledore appearing in the doorway.

"I managed to send your family's things here before the Death Eaters arrived," Dumbledore addressed Harry and Daisy in a grave tone. "They had just set your house alight as I left."

Daisy sat down suddenly, and Harry couldn't blame her.

"Wh-what about Mum and Dad?" she stammered.

Dumbledore knelt down beside her and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. "I will have someone find them as soon as possible and take them somewhere safe. In the meantime, the four of us will be staying here. Aberforth," he directed to his brother, "could you get rooms ready for these two? And I think Miss Dursley here could do with something warm to drink."

"I could get a Butterbeer from downstairs," Harry suggested.

"That will do nicely, Harry. Bring one for all of us, and get them from the stock room – not the bar."

"Got it."

When Harry returned with the Butterbeers, Professor McGonagall was lying still with her eyes closed, Dumbledore murmuring unintelligible words to her. Harry didn't want to interrupt so he just set the bottles down on the bedside table.

"Here you go," he murmured to Daisy, taking the cap off her drink and offering it to her. "Try this."

"I-I'm not allowed m-magic stuff. Mum and Dad -"

"Will never know, I promise. Just have some, Daisy, it'll warm you up nicely."

Aberforth Dumbledore arrived shortly afterwards, just as Daisy was beginning to fall asleep, and showed her and Harry to separate rooms. After wishing his cousin goodnight, Harry collapsed in the creaky bed and fell asleep almost immediately.

* * *

When Harry awoke, it took him a moment to remember where he was. The memories slowly came to him as he gazed at the uneven ceiling, and he realised he was still in the room above the Hog's Head.

The aches all over his body, which had been forgotten last night with all the adrenaline, came back in full force as he sat up. "Ow."

Dumbledore smiled from the doorway. "Afternoon, Harry."

Harry rubbed his eyes wearily. "What's the time?"

"Nearly three PM."

"Is Professor McGonagall okay?" Harry asked.

"It will take a bit of time, but she will recover." Dumbledore entered and sat down on the end of his bed, pulling out what looked like a potion vial and handed it to him. "You will probably want this."

Harry grimaced as he looked at the dark red liquid. "Do I have to?"

"Would you rather starve?" Dumbledore raised a quizzical eyebrow.

Harry took that as a yes, braced himself and took a quick gulp, expecting the worst. Surprisingly, the blood was less like the metallic-like taste he had encountered from numerous face punches courtesy of Dudley, and more like some kind of fruit juice, but a lot less sweet. It was actually rather pleasant.

Dumbledore smiled at the look on his face. "You see? No need to worry. Your taste buds are adapted for it."

"This isn't human blood, is it?" Harry asked warily.

"Of course not. This is chicken, I believe. Minerva is rather partial to it. Sourced painlessly, as well."

"Yuk," came a voice from the doorway. "Is that _blood?_"

Harry grinned at his cousin. "Daisy, you all right?"

She nodded and drew closer, still staring at the half-empty vial. "Yeah. Mum and Dad and Dudley are too, Mr. Dumbledore said they're in some safe house now."

"Professor," Dumbledore gently corrected her. "And you are welcome to return to them whenever you want, Daisy; I am sure they will be glad to see you are safe as well."

She shook her head. "I'd rather stay here with Harry, if that's okay. Harry _is_ staying here, right?"

Harry looked at Dumbledore, who slowly nodded. "Yes, for the time being."

"Okay." Daisy looked happier. "I'll see you later, then, Aberforth is showing me how Transfiguration works."

Harry gave a small laugh as Daisy positively skipped out of the room. "She seems a lot more comfortable round magic now she's stayed here overnight." He caught Dumbledore's eye, and was thrown by the concerned frown. "Professor?"

"Is your cousin all right?" Dumbledore asked. "She didn't seem exactly eager to see her parents again."

"Well, they were never really great parents," Harry began awkwardly. "I mean, Dudley got spoiled rotten, they hated me, and Daisy kind of got forgotten about. She's always been pretty shy and most of the time they just ignore her. We were quite close when we were little, she was like my baby sister, but when I went to Hogwarts she just stopped talking to me altogether. I think she felt like I'd abandoned her." Harry sighed. "Still, least she's talking to me now. That's got to be a good sign."

"How old is she?"

"Eleven last May, why?"

Dumbledore smiled mysteriously. "No reason."

* * *

Harry knocked on the bedroom door. He didn't have to wait long for a call of "Come in."

"Professor McGonagall?" he said, pushing the door open slowly. He grinned in relief when he saw she was awake and smiling at him.

"I see you're up and about," she said, her smile fading after a moment. "Albus told me what happened."

Harry shrugged. "No-one got hurt. It could have been a lot worse."

"I wasn't talking about the attack on your home. Harry, sit down."

There wasn't a chair in the room, so Harry assumed she meant on the bed. He went to sit on the end, but she moved over and gestured for him to sit next to her.

"I know what you said to Albus about not caring what I am." Her mouth twitched. "And I am flattered, but there are things about being a vampire you need to know now."

"I'm already informed about the silver," Harry said. "And apparently I'm going to grow wings?"

She chuckled. "I thought you would find that an upside."

"When does it happen?"

"Not straight away. The complete transformation would be too much stress on the body all at once. Probably in a few weeks' time, although it was only ten or eleven days for me."

Harry nodded. "Okay. What else do I need to know?"

"Well … there are quite a few things. The most important thing to remember, Harry, is that people dislike our kind."

"I gathered that."

"Most wizards are very ignorant when it comes to vampires. In truth, we're not much different from any other person save for a few biological differences, but because of what we have to live on, we're assumed evil."

Harry nodded. "I get it."

"I'm not sure you do. Harry." Professor McGonagall looked him firmly in the eyes. "Vampires have no legal rights – none at all. You especially have to be careful. If the Ministry was still targeting you and Albus, I would have half a mind to tell you to leave the country and change your identity. Killing a vampire is not considered a punishable crime, lots of wizards have made a career out of it, and if any of us break the smallest law, it's punishable by execution."

Harry gulped as it started to sink in. "Good thing this didn't happen before Voldemort turned up in the Ministry."

Professor McGonagall nodded. "A very good thing. And even now I would advise you to be extremely cautious. Keep this a secret, and your nose out of trouble. That includes keeping your temper in check."

"I'll do my best." Harry considered. "Anything else I should know?"

She began to reply, but was interrupted by a loud squeal from downstairs. Harry rushed out of the room and down the steps, with Dumbledore hot on his heels, to find Daisy standing in the middle of the kitchen with an envelope with a Hogwarts seal in her hands.

**TBC …**


	6. Unexpected Letters

**AN:** I am SO sorry for the wait. I've been visited by muses in other fandoms who refused to leave. My HP muse seems to be back now, hopefully I can try and juggle all three so it's fairer to everyone.

* * *

**Chapter Six: Unexpected Letters**

_Dear Miss Dursley_, Harry read out loud. _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

Every eye in the kitchen stared at Daisy, who looked gobsmacked. "I-I'm magic?"

"You certainly are." Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling madly. "I would hazard a guess at from your mother's side."

"But M-Mum's not a witch!"

"No, but your aunt was," Dumbledore said. "These things can happen." He shot a smile at Harry, who was stunned.

"Did you know?" he accused his Headmaster.

"Not for certain. I knew there was somebody with the name Dursley on the list for this year, but I did not want to assume in case it was a coincidence."

Daisy shook her head. "It is – it can't be -"

A voice called from upstairs. "Oy! Everything alright?"

Dumbledore hurried upstairs to assure Professor McGonagall that everything was fine, leaving Harry and Daisy alone. Harry wasn't sure what to make of his cousin's expression. He himself had been elated when he had got his letter; Daisy just looked stunned.

"You okay, Dais?" he asked softly.

"I-I don't know." She sat down heavily on a chair, staring into space. "I never believed – dreamed – this could actually happen."

"It's not a bad thing," Harry said. Daisy didn't look convinced. He sat down next to her and put a tentative arm around her shoulders. "Hogwarts was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Yeah," she said. "Because it was an escape from us, right?"

Harry opened his mouth and closed it a few times, searching for the right words. "Your parents and Dudley, yeah," he said finally. "Not you, though, Dais, I didn't want to leave you. I would have taken you with me if I could've."

Daisy wiped her eyes; Harry hadn't even noticed she was crying, and searched his pockets for a tissue. "I wished you had. I used to stay up every night waiting to hear you come back for me."

A lump formed in Harry's throat; he remembered sleeping badly the first few weeks, worrying about his cousin on her own. "I wrote to you every day. Twice a day, sometimes."

"I know."

"You never replied."

"You left me," Daisy whispered. "Then you wrote, gushing about how wonderful your new life was and how happy you were and how you were making all these friends -"

Harry felt a stab of guilt, not for the first time.

"Dais, I'm sorry. I wasn't very tactful in those days. I honestly wanted to share it all with you, and telling you about it was the closest I could get."

Daisy folded her arms and said nothing, staring into space. Harry swallowed.

"Look, you've got an opportunity here, to come and experience it all for yourself. You won't regret it, I promise."

There was a pause. "What about Mum and Dad?" Daisy said finally. "They'd never let me."

"It's not their choice to make, it's yours."

"That's easy for you to say, people knew your parents wanted you to go and didn't take Mum and Dad seriously when they tried to stop you. I don't have any link to your world."

"You have me," Harry said firmly, "and it's our world now. Leave it to me, Daisy, okay?"

She finally looked at him; Harry swallowed as their eyes met, the exact same shade of Evans green.

"You're not an adult, Harry, how can you -"

"Anything I can't arrange, I'm certain Professor Dumbledore can," Harry said. "And I know it won't take much convincing for him to sort stuff out. I'll talk to him now, if you want."

Daisy hesitated.

"Do you not want to go?"

"I don't know."

"You said you wanted me to take you with me."

"Yeah, for a while. I grew up."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Too old for magic?"

"Too old to believe you'd want to be saddled with your baby cousin."

"Come here." Harry pulled Daisy into a hug; not having expected it, she didn't have time to fight him off. "There's no-one on earth I'd rather be saddled with, you daft girl."

* * *

"Any news yet of that murder?"

The gentle chinking of the dishes in the sink paused as Hannah froze.

Mr Abbott rustled the newspaper. "No."

"Horrible business." Hannah chanced a glance at her mother, who didn't notice, too absorbed in her thoughts. "It's all the town wants to gossip about. Talk about a warm welcome to the neighbourhood ..."

"It's not every day a dismembered man is found in your backyard, dear."

"Whose backyard? I thought he was found in a field?"

"It's an expression, Mum," Hannah said quietly.

Her comment drew her parents' attention. "Hannah, are you doing the washing-up, or standing there waiting for it to clean itself?" Mrs Abbott asked.

Hannah didn't answer, but pushed the dishes together with a rough _clink_ to prove she wasn't a statue. Her mother sniffed, but didn't say anything.

After finishing the washing-up as quickly as she could, Hannah left the kitchen, hearing her father speak just as she rounded the corner.

"Hannah's been very quiet the last couple of days, hasn't she?"

Hannah hesitated, one foot on the bottom stair.

"You know she didn't want to live here, David. She'll need a while to get used to the place. I don't suppose that murder has helped matters ..."

The sickening uneasiness in her reaching intolerable proportions, Hannah hurried up the main staircase, not caring if her parents heard the creaking floorboards.

Once in her room, she sat down on her bed and took a few calming breaths. She hadn't mentioned her incident in the basement to her parents, but had refused to venture back down those steps. The chill in the musty air and the blank space in her memory haunted her thoughts, and at night she lay awake, sure she could still hear the muffled rattling and the thump thump thump.

But the worst part had been what she had found on her own hands.

Hannah shivered madly, and glanced back at the window. The orange evening light was streaming through a gap in the curtains, almost blinding her—

Wait. Sunset?

Hannah ran to the window and yanked open the curtains. The sinking sun was almost obscured by the nearby hills. Hannah looked back at her clock.

Where had the afternoon gone?

Her heart pounding, Hannah looked down in dread at her now-shaking hands. Nausea filled her throat and she swallowed hard, staring at the dark red flecks under her fingernails.

* * *

"Professor Dumbledore, I need to talk to you."

Albus surveyed his favourite pupil with interest. He didn't think he had ever seen Harry look so determined. The young man didn't look angry, exactly, but his face was set and his eyes seemed to be daring Albus to disagree.

"What about, Harry?"

"It's about Daisy. She's worried my aunt and uncle won't allow her to come to Hogwarts." He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "She _can_ come, even if they say no, right?"

Of course Albus was not _afraid_ of Harry, but he didn't like to imagine what would happen if he gave the wrong answer. "It's a complex issue," he said carefully. Harry frowned further. "There have been cases before where families have wanted to prevent the child from attending. However if Daisy really wants to go, then she will have full support from the Hogwarts staff, and no doubt the Wizengamot if it ever got that far—which I doubt."

"Good," Harry said firmly. Albus smiled. Harry reminded him of Molly Weasley when he had crossed wands—not literally—with her over Harry's continued staying with the Dursleys.

Which reminded him …

"On a related note, Harry, you and I have something else to discuss."

"Yes, sir?"

"Well, obviously going back to Privet Drive is out of the question. The blood wards, now gone, cannot be recast elsewhere, so it looks like you're no longer living with your aunt and uncle."

"Oh," Harry said.

Albus raised his eyebrows. "I have to say I was expecting a more … overjoyed response from you."

"Don't get me wrong, sir, I'm glad to be shot of them," Harry said quickly. "But Daisy … once they know she's a witch—I can't abandon her again, sir. Especially not now."

_Ah._ The great flaw in his suggestion. Albus bit his lip. "I see … well … I'll give it some further thought. We will come up with a solution, I promise, Harry."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Albus!"

Albus suppressed a groan as his brother entered the room, brandishing an envelope. He was _not_ in the mood for dealing with Aberforth now. "Yes?"

"I've found it," Aberforth said with a grin, pushing the envelope into Albus' hands.

"Found what?"

"Teasel Ferre," Aberforth said with a grin Albus didn't like.

"Who's that?"

"The new Defence teacher," Albus told Harry, and opened up the envelope. Starting to read the letter inside, he felt his face turn scarlet and he hastily stuffed the thing back in its envelope. "Where did you get this?" he demanded. "I thought you burnt them all!"

"Are you joking?" Aberforth said with a giggle. "I just told you that so I could get to keep them. I read _all_ your proposals on a regular basis. They give me a good laugh. Teasel sent twenty-seven in all—and that's one of the _least_ explicit."

"Er … proposals?" Harry asked curiously.

"Marriage proposals," Aberforth said quickly before Albus could stop him. "Albus used to get owls from eligible witches all over the world, didn't you Alby?" He laughed, wisely dancing out of Albus' reach.

"Aberforth," Albus growled warningly.

Harry grinned. "Including the new teacher?"

"It was a long time ago," Albus said firmly. "People do silly things in their youth. I won't hold it against her."

"Minerva will," Aberforth pointed out. "Will you tell her or shall I?"

"Aberforth, if you tell Minerva I will personally cram all twenty-seven letters down your throat!"

Aberforth seemed to take a moment to consider whether it would be worth it. "All right then," he said finally. "I'll let you do it. But I can't wait to see how she's going to react …"

Albus, with restrained calmness, tore the proposal into pieces and deposited the remains in the fire. Aberforth, having finished his giggle fit, muttered something about getting dinner and left. Albus watched Harry return to his room, and heard him repeating the first conversation to Daisy. Albus sighed. The residence situation was going to need a good deal more thought. When faced with problems, he talked things over with Minerva. Now, he knew, they had a _lot_ to talk about.

**TBC …**


	7. Breaking and Fixing

**Chapter Seven: Breaking and Fixing**

"I guess … I should get this over and done with, right?" Daisy murmured.

"That would be my advice. And I'll be there with you," Harry promised. "You won't have to do it alone."

They took the Portkey Dumbledore gave them, and arrived in a hallway somewhere. Harry didn't have much chance to wonder whose house it was before they were greeted with "BOY!"

As much as he wanted to grimace in dread, he kept his face neutral—he had to stay strong, for Daisy, or she'd be more frightened than she was already.

Vernon advanced, his face purple. He was still dressed in the clothes he had been wearing two days ago. The remaining Dursleys appeared behind him, watching the scene.

"Uncle Vernon," Harry said politely.

Vernon was just launching into a rant about Harry's freakishness being the cause of his family's homelessness, while Daisy shrank back and was practically trying to hide behind him, when the tirade was interrupted.

"Mr Dursley," came Remus' tired voice. Harry wondered how long someone with Remus' patience could spend with his uncle before he gave into temptation and cursed the man. "Harry can no longer live with you, so I believe the fact that he has bothered to come here at all shows that he actually cares enough to make sure you are all right."

"No he doesn't," Vernon growled. "He just wants to make sure our deaths won't be on his conscience!"

"Well," Remus said, even quieter, "whose fault is that?" After a moment he said in a normal tone, "Harry, why _are_ you here?"

"Daisy," Harry said, nodding at her. The others in the room all craned their necks, surprise on their faces, having not noticed her before. "Go on."

Her hand tightened painfully on his, and he squeezed it gently, trying to smile encouragingly. "Don't worry, I'm right here. So's Remus, and _he_'s allowed to use a wand on them."

"Not helping, Harry," Remus muttered as the other three Dursleys blanched, and Dudley edged further away.

Daisy took a deep breath. "M-Mum … D-Dad … I …" She swallowed.

"Yes?" Petunia said, not impatiently but without any gentleness.

"I-I-I … got a—a H-Hogwarts letter."

A stunned silence fell in the room. Remus got over his surprise quickest, and smiled reassuringly at Daisy. Dudley was the one to break the silence.

"No way. Now I've got one of those _freaks_ for a sister too?"

Daisy flinched, and Harry glared at his other cousin. "Dudley, shut up. She's not a freak."

Petunia looked as if she were about to faint. "No … no … no, not possible … no daughter of mine …"

Vernon's face, which had already been beetroot, was now contorting violently. Harry hadn't thought it was possible for his uncle to look any uglier. "YOU!" he finally burst out, slamming his fist down on the hall table so hard it broke. Remus drew his wand but Vernon either didn't see or ignored it. "BOY! YOU'VE CONTAMINATED MY HOUSEHOLD, MY FAMILY! GET OUT, GET AWAY FROM US, YOU FR—"

"MR DURSLEY, THAT WILL DO!" Remus yelled, and sparks flew from his wand. All three Dursleys flinched, and Vernon fell silent, though it looked a painful effort. "Mr Dursley," Remus continued, a lot more calmly, "I am afraid that is _not_ how it works. Your daughter —"

"She's no daughter of mine," Vernon spat.

At these words, Petunia _did_ faint. Dudley only glared harder at Harry and Daisy, hands clenched into fists.

"Harry," Remus said quietly, "perhaps the two of you should leave."

"Yes," Vernon snarled, looking not just at Harry but at Daisy too. "Leave and never come back!"

Daisy, pale and shaking from head to foot, clung onto Harry as he activated the Portkey, and the scene disappeared as they were transported back to the Hog's Head.

* * *

Minerva put down her book and sighed, staring longingly at the crack in the curtains that let in a sliver of mid-afternoon sun. As a vampire, she was not overly fond of the sun, always donning a wide-brimmed hat of some description when she stepped outside, but she loved summer evenings—and one was drawing nearer, taunting her. Despite the pain and exhaustion she still endured from the attack, she longed to be outside, to fly. But it would be days before _that_ was possible, and in the meantime, she was stuck in bed, with far too many unpleasant thoughts battling for supremacy in her mind.

Teasel Ferre was thankfully much lower down on her list of worries, even now Albus had broken to her the fact that she'd proposed to him numerous times. Unfortunately that was because the newer worries were more serious. Minerva wished jealousy of a colleague _was_ her biggest problem.

But no. She was still smarting internally over her sister's actions; the rejection, after all these years, hurt a lot more than even the Silver Flames had. But even this paled in comparison to her two biggest concerns.

Tom Riddle had broken into her mind—she had been afraid of the event occurring for years, but thought the fears irrational, as one of the few benefits of being a vampire were the natural defences around thoughts and memories. It was only this reason that had prevented her from demanding Albus teach her Occlumency. Merlin only knew how long he had been working at chipping away at hers. If he had done it once—within the Privet Drive wards at that, and bringing them down with his entry—then he could certainly do it again. Minerva suddenly felt very vulnerable.

But her biggest worry was Harry. Minerva hadn't been exaggerating when she had said she would have advised Harry to go into hiding. In fact if it weren't for the prophecy, she might still have been seriously considering it. The wizarding world didn't like vampires at the best of times, but for a celebrity such as Harry to be revealed as one—he had never before known shunning like he would experience then.

As long as nobody knew, he should be all right. But if anyone found out … Minerva couldn't help but be frightened for her student; probably a lot more so than he was. She had lived for half a century knowing the penalty for stepping out of line. In fact, she had probably been lucky last year that Dolores Umbridge had never tried to charge her with anything. For Harry, it probably hadn't sunk in yet. Minerva knew she had a temper, that on occasions had got the best of her—Albus had rebuked her out of anxiety on more than one occasion—but she knew Harry's was, if not equal to hers, then greater. Again, Umbridge was a case in point.

Minerva had almost never been so happy to see Albus as the moment he poked his head around the door, breaking her train of thought. "Ah, you _are_ awake. Would you like something to eat, my dear?"

"I'd like someone to talk to," Minerva grumbled. "I can't concentrate on reading with everything on my mind."

He smiled at her. "Of course. Actually, I was hoping to talk to you further about Harry and Daisy."

Minerva sighed. One more worry. "I don't know, Albus. I don't have any ideas."

"No," he murmured, coming in and sitting with her. "Me neither; that is what worries me. I wish I knew what to do."

In the next room, there was a thump of something falling to the floor. Albus raised his eyebrows. "Do you think that's Harry back?"

"How should I know? Go and look; you're the one who can walk around." Minerva gave him a push, and he chuckled as he stood and left the room.

* * *

Daisy crumpled to the floor as soon as they arrived, and didn't bother to try and get up again, dissolving into sobs. Harry knelt down next to her and pulled her close, hugging her as tightly as he could. He had some idea of how she was feeling, having once longed for the Dursleys' approval and acceptance—the difference between them was, he had given up a long time ago.

"Shhh," he murmured, kissing the top of her red-blonde waves. "It's okay; it'll be okay, I promise." He didn't know how, but he didn't know what else to say.

The door opened, and Dumbledore looked in. "I thought I heard you come—_ah_," he said, spotting the weeping Daisy. "Can I assume that they weren't very receptive to the idea of going to Hogwarts?"

"Actually, sir, they disowned her," Harry said quietly.

Daisy clutched Harry, if possible, even tighter, and Dumbledore's eyes widened. "_Oh_." The surprise was quickly taken over by sympathy. "Oh, my dear child, I am so sorry."

"I-I c-can't believe … M-Mum and D-Dad … wh-what's g-going t-t-to hap-pen to m-me now?" Daisy hiccupped. Dumbledore drew out a handkerchief and passed it to Harry, who gently wiped her cheeks.

"You're staying with me," Harry said firmly. There was no question of it in his mind; he would take the Ministry of Magic to court if he had to, and if they refused he would do as Professor McGonagall had suggested and change his identity. Nothing was too extreme. "_I'll_ look after you."

He had almost forgotten Dumbledore's presence; the man cleared his throat hesitantly. "Er, Harry, you are not even sixteen yet—"

Harry fixed Dumbledore with a glare. "I don't care. She's my _family_."

Dumbledore chuckled at the look on his face. "Actually, if you had let me finish Harry, what I was _going_ to say was that you cannot be a legal guardian until you are of age, _however_, I am sure that wherever you live in the meantime, we can accommodate Daisy as well. Nobody will be splitting you up, I promise."

Harry blinked. "Oh," he said, now feeling rather foolish. He had been leaping to conclusions again. Maybe he had just learned to expect opposition in everything he did. "Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome." He smiled kindly at Daisy, who had stopped crying now and was just slumped in her cousin's arms, looking torn between miserable and relieved. "You know, child, Minerva was disowned as well. She understands what you're going through; I think talking to her may be beneficial."

Daisy hesitated, and looked up at Harry. He nodded firmly.

"Okay," she said in a small voice. "Can I do it now?"

"Of course."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Harry asked.

After a moment's thought, Daisy shook her head. "It's okay, Harry. I'll see you in a bit. Thank you."

A silence fell in the room after Daisy had gone next door. After a moment, Dumbledore broke it. "Harry, I believe I have a plan for yours and Daisy's living arrangements—that is, if you are both receptive to it."

"What is it?"

"Well, I have been wondering how to produce the strongest possible protection for you. Blood magic is always the strongest, and since Minerva Turned you, the two of you now have a magical bond—one that is only made stronger by the fact that, if I am not much mistaken, you two had an emotional bond before the event."

"Er … emotional bond?" Harry queried.

"You cared for her, did you not? More than just as a teacher, I mean."

"Well, yeah," Harry admitted.

"Precisely. And I know for a fact that she cared for you. The bond that forms is based on those feelings, and ties you together forever. That blood magic is built on the same premise as your mother's sacrifice: love. And makes it just as strong."

"So …" Harry twigged what Dumbledore was getting at. "You're suggesting I—we—live with Professor McGonagall? Er … does she know you're suggesting this?"

He received a chuckle in response. "I am suggesting you live with _us_, and yes I _did_ discuss it with Minerva, although I knew what her answer would be before I asked. You're important to _both_ of us, Harry. And I don't just mean because you're the Boy Who Lived," Dumbledore added quickly, as if he realised how Harry might take that statement.

"_Us?_ You mean, you two are …"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "And here I thought someone with your curiosity would have worked it out long ago. Minerva and I are a couple, yes."

"Oh!"

"You didn't wonder why we were living together?"

"Well," Harry said, "since it was an inn … I just assumed it was a convenient place for you both to stay."

"Oh … now you mention it, I suppose it could look that way. But no, we do actually live here during the holidays, at least while Voldemort is around. When he's not, we usually travel."

"Oh, right. So, are you two married?"

"Not technically; she's my mate." At Harry's confused look, Dumbledore elaborated. "That is the vampire equivalent of marriage. I take it Minerva hasn't talked about relationships with you yet?"

"No."

"Ah. Well, you had better remind her."

"I will." Harry turned the conversation over in his head. Living in the Hog's Head, with the Dumbledores and Professor McGonagall?

Well, it certainly beat the Dursleys. "I'm in, Professor," he said. "About living with you guys, I mean. I'll have to run it past Daisy, but I think she likes it here, so there shouldn't be a problem."

"Excellent!" Dumbledore said happily. "In which case, forget the 'Professor'. It's Albus."

**TBC …**


End file.
